


Confessions Of A Fallen Angel

by destimushi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Casifer, Lucifer!Castiel, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Season 11 Coda, destiel in mention, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 07:53:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14911373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destimushi/pseuds/destimushi
Summary: Lucifer waits until the gate to the bunker shuts with a loud click before turning around to take in the library.“Feels good to be home, doesn’t it?” The voice is Castiel’s, or more specifically, it once belonged to Jimmy Novak, but the words belong to Lucifer.After Castiel said yes, Lucifer decides there's one place he absolutely needs to visit.





	Confessions Of A Fallen Angel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [icarusinflight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarusinflight/gifts), [zaffre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaffre/gifts).



> I found this little piece in my file and shared it with some friends and now I'm posting it...! 
> 
> This is unbetaed so all mistakes are my own.

Lucifer waits until the gate to the bunker shuts with a loud click before turning around to take in the library.

“Feels good to be home, doesn’t it?” The voice is Castiel’s, or more specifically, it once belonged to Jimmy Novak, but the words belong to Lucifer.

_“What business do you have here, Lucifer?”_

“Aww c’mon, Castiel,” Lucifer says out loud, uncaring if anyone hears him. “I just want to know what it feels like to come home since I’ve been locked out of mine for so long.”

 _“Well, this isn’t your home, and you promised you’ll leave the Winchesters alone.”_ Castiel’s voice echoes in Lucifer’s head. It sounds strained.

“No? Technically I’m you right now, so what’s yours is mine.” Lucifer smirks. He saunters around the library, then heads down the long hall to poke his head into the kitchen.

 _“I won’t forgive you if you hurt them.”_  

“And what do you plan to do? Talk me to death?”

Castiel doesn’t respond, which annoys Lucifer as he idly looks into the fridge. For a couple of bachelors living on the go, they certainly have the icebox well stocked. The bags of fresh greens no doubt belongs to Sam, but what catches Lucifer’s attention is the half-eaten slice of pie – apple, judging by the chunks spilling out the sides – sitting on the top shelf.

Knowing that this will annoy Castiel more than it would Dean, Lucifer grabs the plate and scoops a glob of apple pie filling into his mouth with his finger. “Mmmm, now if only I could taste it.” Castiel growls but doesn’t say anything otherwise, denying Lucifer the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of him.

The Devil in the sheep’s skin saunters out of the kitchen, his mind closely guarded against his mental roommate as he makes his way down the long hall. Lucifer’s good mood is evaporating, and the small petulant part of him is determined to get a rise out of his little brother.

He stops in front of Sam’s closed bedroom, and as much as he wants to go in there and take in everything that’s the new, older Sam, Lucifer has better plans. Sam’s room can wait. He can feel the tension swelling in his head; it’s not his. Castiel can’t read his thoughts, and that makes him very nervous.

Good.

Further down the hall is another room, the door slightly ajar, almost an invitation for Lucifer to step right in. He pushes the door open and breathes deeply, sharing the scent with his cohabitant. “So, this is Dean Winchester’s room.” Lucifer looks around in amusement. “I gotta say, I was expecting more naked girl posters.”

_“Lucifer, this is quite enough. Don’t you have an aunt to slay, then the world to burn?”_

“All in good time, Castiel,” Lucifer singsongs as he makes his way into the room. He sits down on the mattress—memory foam, he muses—and reaches under the pillow to pull out a pile of old, faded photographs. He looks through them idly, his lips pulling in an ugly smirk as he feels the anguish coming from Castiel. He can shut all that off, of course, but it is way more fun feeling Castiel reacting this way.

He throws the pictures on top of the pillow and looks around the room until his eyes fall on a full-length mirror propped up against the wall next to a half-open closet. So, Dean Winchester does have a small, vain side after all. The idea hit him so hard Lucifer barks out a sharp laughter, and he shares the mental image of what he’s about to do with Castiel.

_“...Lucifer, don’t you—”_

“Don’t I what? Dare?” Lucifer cuts Castiel off. “I can do whatever I want, you said yes to it all.”

_“Goddammit, Lucifer, this—this—”_

Lucifer only grins as he shrugs the trench coat and suit jacket over his shoulders and throws them on the floor. He climbs onto the bed, maneuvering himself until his reflection smiles back at him through the mirror. He can feel Castiel’s embarrassment and anguish at his helplessness, but there is something else underneath all that, something Lucifer is familiar with.

Lust. Restricted and suppressed, but it is there, simmering just below the surface. Lucifer let that feeling flow through him and chuckles when his vessel stirs.

“Brother, this is altogether very inappropriate, don’t you think?” Lucifer sighs and flicks open the button of his trousers, his fingers trailing down the growing tent between his legs before reaching for the zipper. “Having feelings? Least of all, lusting after a human?”

 _“You—I—t-this is—”_ Castiel’s voice hitches. Lucifer reaches deeper into Castiel’s mind, cold fingers digging for feelings Castiel’s buried.

“Don’t try to hide it, Castiel. You know you can’t hide anything from me. I am you.” Lucifer lifts his hips and pulls his pants and underwear down to pool at his knees. “These feelings you have for Dean must be very frustrating.” He drags one long finger along his hardening shaft, down the front and circles the base before coming back up the soft underside. “Let me guess. You’re too afraid to tell him how you feel because he’s such a man’s man and all that. And you’re afraid that he’ll tell you to leave again after he finds out how much you want his dick?”

Lucifer doesn’t need a response from Castiel; his emotions are a mess of plum pudding inside their head. Anger, hatred, and embarrassment battling for dominance as Castiel tries to suppress them all. All the while, Lucifer just stares into the mirror, his eyes gazing beyond the physical form sprawled on Dean’s bed. The eyes that looks back are not his, they are what little Castiel Lucifer allows to flow through. If looks could kill, Lucifer would be a cooling corpse by now.

Lucifer forces Castiel’s eyes to look down at the erection twitching at the junction of his thighs. Such confusion and guilt. It’s all so delicious to the Devil that he actually draws a sharp breath and holds it until his lungs burns. “Can you imagine what would happen if Dean walks through that door right now? Seeing you like this?” Lucifer runs his tongue along his lips, the tip moistening slightly chapped skin. “Do you think he’d be shocked? Appalled? Delighted?”

Slowly, Lucifer wraps his hand around the base of his cock, his fingers gripping just this side of too tight, and strokes up to catch a pooling pearl of pre-cum. He allows the sensation to trickle back to Castiel and laughs when he realizes this isn’t the first time Castiel’s felt this before. “Like to play with yourself, do you?” Without waiting for a reply, Lucifer gathers the pre-cum and smears it along the ridge. It feels good—touching himself this way—and it is a pleasure of the flesh that Lucifer has long forgotten.

“Imagine how it would feel if this was Dean’s hand, his fingernail dragging along your skin, his thumb rubbing against your slit.” Lucifer leans back against Dean’s pillow, his head propped just high enough so he can watch himself, or rather make Castiel watch, as he jerks his erection with languid strokes. He doesn’t need to talk out loud, but the sound of his voice, of Castiel’s voice, makes it all that much more unbearable for his little brother. And that pleases Lucifer more than he cares to admit.

“Or better, imagine that ass of his coming down on you—” Lucifer tightens his grip and drags his hand down his shaft agonizingly slow. “Until you’re all the way inside him. What kind of face would a man’s man like that be making then? That pretty mouth of his, would it be open? Or hissing with pain?” Lucifer’s breath hitches when he feels the soul-wrenching groan that comes from Castiel. It’s so exquisitely painful, filled with so much guilt and self-loathing that Lucifer almost takes pity on him. “Are you imagining it?”

It’s not like Castiel has a choice, with Lucifer forcing the dirtiest mental images into his consciousness. Shame scorches Castiel’s conscience, and Lucifer knows he feels it more keenly than a physical burn. Castiel struggles, but they both know Castiel cannot deny anything Lucifer has said.

Castiel is trying so desperately to shut it all out, but Lucifer is in his head, his words planting directly into Castiel’s mind. He tries to shut off, but Lucifer doesn’t let him. Instead, he feeds Castiel, letting every last nerve ending in what used to be Castiel’s body send jolting waves of pleasure through him.

Lucifer pins Castiel’s eyes on his straining, hard cock. The tip is purple with need, and Lucifer’s fingers stroke faster, catching globs of pre-cum as lubricant the same way Castiel used to whenever his thoughts turned to Dean.

Perhaps it’s the sight of his dick, or the mental image of Dean’s naked body writhing beneath him that Lucifer conjures, or the implications of it and the fact they are doing this on Dean’s bed. Somethings drives Castiel to finally give Lucifer what he wants.

Castiel shudders, if his consciousness can even do such a thing. _“Oh fuck…”_  

“What was t-that, little brother?” Lucifer’s voice stutters when his fingers drag over that particularly sensitive spot just below the ridge.

 _“L-Lucifer—I—you—”_ Castiel’s voice rings broken in Lucifer’s head. _“Come, need to come…”_

“Not until I get a little truth from you, little one.” Lucifer stops all movement, his fingers locked around the base of the straining erection. “A little honesty, Castiel.”

Castiel is quiet, and Lucifer squeezes his cock tighter. _“I...I want...I have wanted Dean Winchester. Like this, like you described.”_ Lucifer’s fingers loosen around the base of his cock, and Castiel gasps. _“I...I think I love him. More than an angel’s love for Father’s most perfect creations.”_  

Lucifer growls, and his hand moves in a blur. His release, their release, comes crashing through him—through _them_ —and their body convulses as rope after rope of milky come splash onto the sheets between their legs. For a brief moment, they share the body as equals, and Lucifer can feel Castiel’s shudder like a tangible thing.

The moment is short-lived, and Castiel is once again shoved into the background as Lucifer takes control. “And you had to ruin the moment. Who talks about their dad when jerkin’ it?” Lucifer’s voice is light, but there is a drip of annoyance that he couldn’t quite hide. “So you love him huh?”

A chill runs through Lucifer, and he grins at the cold, blue eyes staring back at him. “I’ll make sure to take extra pleasure in taking him apart, then.”

 


End file.
